Ten
by Vitalogy
Summary: Picard and Crusher are forced on a ten day leave that falls apart shortly after their


Ten -- by Kristina Corey Quintana

Originally Posted: Sat Mar 1 19:34:08 1997

[R] (P/C) TNG 

Picard and Crusher are forced on a ten day leave that falls apart shortly after their arrival.

Paramount Pictures owns the whole Star Trek universe, I am just borrowing them.  


I. 

"Ooh, once upon a time I could control myself, yeah...

Once upon a time I could lose myself, yeah, yeah, yeah...

Once, upon a time I could love myself, yeah...

Once upon a time I could love you, yeah, yeah, yeah... "

Once-Pearl Jam

He sat behind his Spartan desk in his quarters. He stared blankly at the computer monitor. Amber colored words flashed by. They went away unread. More scurried to take their place. He didn't notice. His eyes betrayed his age to be a thousand years older than he ever would be. Distant. Thinking. Consumed was the word. The sense of self doubt, self dread. It still hung thick in the air. That he succeeded in failure, that his life carried no bearing, no meaning, no hope. Hopelessness and Picard were words that did not make timely bedfellows, but they had been running hand in hand of late.

The door chimed. He did not notice. That was a lie. He did not want to notice. He knew who it was. He did not want to see her. He didn't want to look into her eyes, to see his troubled soul reflected back to him, for her to see. He didn't want her to suffer, it was something she didn't deserve to feel. The door chimed again. Meekly, he uttered, "Come."

Deanna Troi stepped in, as if she was uncertain of her surroundings. The room was dark. The temperature was degrees lower than out in the corridor, and she shivered. "Captain Picard?" Deanna's eyes adjusted to the darkness as the door hissed shut. She didn't know what approach to use. Each session with him was different. Sometimes his anger was intense, so much, she could barely control her own rage, sometimes so hopeless, she was on the verge of tears for the rest of the day. She didn't know what to expect. It was almost... dangerous. She creeped towards where she vaguely remembered the Spartan couch to be. She didn't have to ask, just be there to listen. Some days, she waited for hours; today was not going to be one of them.

"I don't think I know how to love. I don't think I ever knew what it was like. I think that was why they picked me. Don't you see why it was so easy? Why do you think it was me? No emotions to deal with, unlike you... Data, why she loved Data, picking someone that never learned to deal with the emotions of the world around them... knowing I never loved anyone in my lifetime."

This was where Deanna interjected. "I don't believe for a moment that is true. I know someone that you love deeply, and she in turn cares for you. You loved your family, just as you love hers."

"I don't," he whispered. "I don't know how."

II.

"... thoughts arrive like butterflies ..."

Even Flow-Pearl Jam

She poked at the piece of chicken with something less than conviction. It didn't even puncture the skin. A slender piece of it was missing, like the spoonful of mashed potatoes, the forkful of carrots, the half drunk honey tea, which had grown cold a while ago. Finally, she pushed the plate away. She wandered into her bedroom, along the way, shedding her medical jacket, tugging at her uniform. She wanted to lay on her bed and sob, but that nasty rebellious Howard streak wouldn't let her. She was certain she was suffering from some sort of clinical depression, but she felt the need to aggressively fight it. She thought about going to see Jean-Luc, but decided that it was his place to come to her. After what had been said and done that morning, she felt the burning anger and the flood of tears build up in her again. Beverly found a long cream colored sundress in her closet and slipped it on. She then left her quarters, towards the holodeck, yet still reliving this morning in her mind.

*

Jean-Luc Picard stared at the cold breakfast roll in front of him. Feelings were swirling around him, and Beverly Crusher didn't need to be

an empath to figure it out. One innocent remark was what brought it into a flood, that washed her away. "Jean-Luc," she said, it sounded almost flippant, motherly, but it was not intended as such, "at least have a bite of that roll."

His tone was dark, she noticed that right away, and she wished she never even opened her mouth to break the uncomfortable silence that has been her protector, her savior. "Beverly, you do not really care about the roll, or about me, so let it sit cold on the table."

Beverly felt the tingle down her back, and instead of leaving the comment alone, like her Nana would have wanted her to, she dug right in. It was a mistake, lords, a mistake. She was angry, her temper on a dangerous boil. "I do care about you. After everything that you and I have been though, now you doubt that I don't care about you?"

"You never did," he said through a tight lip. "You never had anyone but me, and felt some distressed mislaid duty to respect me, cherish me, love me. You did not every truly believe a single one of those things."

"I don't know if you've been believing that, " she began, "I have always cared about you, more than myself! I always thought that someday, they were going to cart you into my sickbay, and that there would never be anything that I could do, so I always looks for answers, to be prepared,

for you, for the people of this ship that you love, that YOU LOVE, and for what? So you can accusing me of not caring?"

"You were looking for a replacement for Jack." He said evenly. He looked at the roll. His eyes had never left it through the course of the conversation.

Her flood waters crashed free. "How dare you, you bastard! I loved Jack, almost more than anything I have known, and now you crucify his memory by saying something as heartless as that? Who the hell do you think you are? There are only two people I love more... wrong, one, Wes. The other person WAS you, but since you can't love, unable to love anyone, I don't think you know how to love. I don't even think you knew what it was like. I think that was why the Borg picked you. Don't you see why it was so easy them? Why do you think picked you? I thought it was because you had so much depth. so many things to offer...emotions to deal with, unlike Data, they were picking someone that learned to deal with emotions of the world around them... knowing you loved more than anyone in their lifetime."

"You don't know anything about them! I'm the only one that knows about them!" He stood up, hovering above her.

"Maybe I should!" Beverly Crusher bolted upright, her hand flying, lifting her plate with her half eaten roll up into the air. The plate hovered between there faces for a spilt second, then dropped like a stone, crashing and shattering Picard's glass table. While Picard watched the plate, Beverly walked out of his quarters.

*

The pieces littered the ground, and Picard fell onto them, sobbing like a child. Deanna stumbled into the darkness to him, holding him as he sobbed on a pile of broken glass, knees, hands, fingers and legs shedding small tears of blood from them both.

III.

"...but I'm glad we talked..."

Alive - Pearl Jam

Beverly stood inside her gilded cage. It wasn't as dramatic as that, but it seemed appropriate. "Computer," she began, "Secure Holodeck, Crusher Beta Charlie Echo One. Run program Crusher Gamma Seven Access Ten One Three Eleven."

She waited. she didn't know why she was doing this, but she let the program run anyway. The yellow lines faded into the darkness, and little things started to buzz and click in the darkness. Thin red lights appeared and disappeared. the heat grew considerably as her eyes strained to adjust in the darkness that surrounded her. The green hue of the monitors was eerie, and despite the heat, she was shivering. "Why am I doing this?" she wondered aloud. There was a grayish light that illuminated the scene, the different shapes and units that clicked with life, reporting information. Beverly turned slightly, looking at the different machines. "It's so real..."

In front of her, he stood. His mechanical eye buzzed and clicked as it looked her over. The red light led it, pinpointing where on her he was looking. Careful. Quizzical. Interested, yet not impressed by her. Beverly shivered. She felt violated, scared, sick, frightened, all in that moment.

"I am Locutis of Borg."

*

He laid back on the couch as Deanna tended to the last of her cuts. "Captain?" She asked, not motherly, nor sarcastic. She wasn't quite sure what to say. Every word was like thin ice, this she could feel from him. He was working to shut her out, yet she could still tell that he was ashamed of himself, for loosing control. Almost as if he was ashamed of the fact that for the first time in his life that he needed someone, needed something more that what Starfleet herself had given him. Jean-Luc Picard laid there, close to pouting as a man of that name could be.

"I didn't mean to say those things to her."

"I know that you didn't mean to say those things. I know for a fact that you regret that you said such things. However, it doesn't mean anything unless she knows that you didn't mean to say those things. Those words can not be taken back, but maybe she could help you understand why you feel that way... it would be a shame for it to be like this..."

Picard thought about that for a moment. Those words, ...it would be a shame for it to be like this... Picard often had that same thought when he often observed Deanna and one William Riker. The had such an opportunity before them, to pressure something that would be something special, and they never did. With that, for the first time, he realized that he was in the same situation. Days, weeks, months, years... he realized that Deanna observed Beverly and himself as he observed her and Will. As he had been look out of the window, she had been looking in. He understood.

Deanna smiled, she could feel that he understood. For the first time in quite sometime, something made a difference to him. Then Jean-Luc Picard smiled.

Deanna frowned.

*

"Do you know who I am?" She asked. She tried sound strong, yet her voice still quivered. She had this churning feeling in the pit of her stomach, and for no good reason.

"Crusher, Doctor Beverly." Locutis responded. "That is not relevant."

"What is relevant to you?" She asked.

"The Borg. To continue our growth. To be one with each other."

"That," she said, "does not sound like The Borg. That sounds like A Borg, Locutis of Borg. Who am I?"

"That is not relevant. It was already established."

"Does the name Jean-Luc Picard mean anything to you?"

"That is irrelevant."

She was shaking, almost violently. She was a pit of emotions, a total wreck. She was scared, she was angry, she was cold. Her thoughts kept going back to that morning. "Can you tell? Don't you even know something that is part of you? That he had a world of knowledge and emotions that made your the thing that you are? Can't you even admit to that? That he loved people, that he could love someone?"

"Love is irrelevant. I am Locutis of Borg. I do not love."

"I was asking about Jean-Luc Picard."

"That is irrelevant. I am not Picard."

"Do you know who Jean-Luc Picard is? Do you know if he could ever love? That he did love? That may even love me?"

"Beverly." Locutis stared at her. His mechanical eye clicked. The narrow red light snapped on, and without any prior warning, Locutis' arm lashed out and struck Beverly in the stomach. She buckled, and fell onto the floor.

"Computer, Freeze Program!" She screamed. With that, she started to cry, her body shaking with her sobs on the metal floor of a Borg ship.

*

Deanna hit her com badge. "Computer, locate Dr. Crusher."

Picard looked deathly pale, then dead serious in an instant.

"Dr. Crusher is in her quarters." Came the polite response.

Deanna tapped her com badge again. "Beverly, this is Deanna."

There was no response.

IV.

"She scratches a letter into a wall made of stone..."

Why Go - Pearl Jam

Beverly slowly began to sit up. The tears were still streaming from her eyes. she wasn't quite sure at whom to be upset with, Jean-Luc, the holodeck program, or the fact that she had forgot to program the safety features into this program. She looked down at her stomach, that throbbed with pain and hunger, and saw a tracing of her own blood. Her dress had a small gash in it now. One of Locutis' fingernails or something managed to snag itself, taking skin and cloth with it. "Damn it," she sighed, sinking back onto the ground, crying anew.

Locutis of Borg, frozen in time, stared down at her.

*

She could have told him to stay there, but she didn't. Deanna Troi, one step short of sprinting down the corridor made her way to Beverly's quarters. Picard was hot on her heels. Something wasn't right, she knew it, he knew it. She had been spending a lot of time with Captain Picard and Beverly recently... and she had grown more attached to them, even more in tune with their feelings than before.

"Beverly," she said, ringing the door. Picard hovered a few steps behind her, much like a loyal animal. They stood there for a few long seconds, waiting, but then Deanna tried to open the door. It slid open, to her surprise. She knew that Beverly wasn't in there, but she didn't expect the door to open, either. She stepped into the room, Picard a few moments later. "Computer, locate Doctor Beverly Crusher without her comm badge. Eliminate Diplomatic Quarters, Personal Quarters, the Brig, and Ten Forward."

Deanna's eyes wandered around the room and stopped at her desk. At the stacks and stacks of datapadds and the extra computer.

The computer responded. "Doctor Crusher is in Holodeck One."

Deanna was torn for a moment. She looked at those datapadds, and walked over to the desk. She picked up one, examined it, put it down. Looked at a second. Her eyes grew wide. "Captain, it's... " looking again at the second screen, "...I think I need to speak to her alone." She crept away from the desk and brushed out the door.

Picard regarded her carefully as she crept out of Beverly quarters. He slowly walked around the desk looking at her monitors, and his stomach locked. On her screen was the medical profile of him. Someone he once was, once knew.

Locutis of Borg.

*

She stood outside of the holodeck. She had tried to walk it, but was informed it was locked. She touched the com pad next to the door. "Beverly. It's Deanna. Can I come in, please?"

There was a long pause before the doors slid open in front of her. Deanna tried to take the whole situation in stride. It was hard. When the doors shut, she strained her eyes in the darkness to see. It didn't take her but just a moment to realize where she was. It was warm, and she strained to see with the green monitors and random red laser beams. It wasn't too much longer when Deanna found Beverly shaking on the ground beneath an image of Locutis. Deanna went to her, sat down and pulled the sobbing Beverly into her arms. Deanna was a bit startled when she felt the sticky warmth of blood. The only think she could think was that they both had a prechant for sobbing and bleeding. "Computer, end program. Run Troi Delta Two."

The Singing Skies welcomed them overhead.

*

Jean-Luc Picard regarded himself. The image on the screen was haunting. After everything, all things that he had been subjected to, suffered with by himself... what he thought to be a blessing turned out to be a curse. The was a rift larger than any ocean, than any sky, and for the first time, he could see the rift at his feet, and couldn't see Beverly on the shore waiting for him.

Maybe, it just might not be too late.

V.

"All five horizons revolved around her soul...

Like the earth to the sun...

Now the year I tasted and breathed...

Has taken a turn..."

Black - Pearl Jam

Deanna didn't say anything. The Singing Skies just lit the room, and she held Beverly in her arms, gently rocking her back and forth. Warm tears still gushed from her eyes, but her breathing slowed to normal pace. She clutched her stomach, that was bleeding, staining her dress, her arms, and Deanna's uniform. "I need to get to my medkit." She said. Her heart hurt, her soul, and now her stomach. She was tired suddenly. The cut didn't feel that deep, but when she looked down, there was a lot more blood than she expected. Too much more. Maybe it wasn't just a fingernail that got her.

"We need to get you to sickbay Beverly." Deanna said, her eyes growing wide at the sight of Beverly's stomach.

"I don't need sickbay, I need my medkit." Beverly argued. She felt sort of loopy by this point. She felt her eyes grow heavy. Maybe it was all the stress...

Deanna ignored her. Tapping her com badge, she said "Transporter Room Three, two to beam directly to Sickbay."

*

He struggled to remember what he said. What she said. Why his glass table was in pieces. Why she was interested in the Borg, in Locutis, in him. Why he was blind to see how he felt about her, to see how she felt about him. She had been so tolerant of him, despite everything, and he was at her side for one of the most difficult times of her life. He wanted to do something, tell her everything she ever wanted to know about himself, hold her in his arms.

Locutis of Borg stared back at him.

What the hell was she doing? All of this information about them, about himself while he was a Borg. Why? He didn't understand. What was she trying to find out? A datapadd fell from a stack in front of him. He picked it up. It was information on how to ADD Borg implants to someone. He scrolled down further. How to add them to herself. To HERSELF. She wanted to know what it was like, to be closer to him, to understand him...

"Troi to Captain Picard." She sounded sullen.

He gulped. "Picard here."

"I'm in sickbay. I think you may want to come down here."

"I'm on my way." Beverly. Something had happened to Beverly. This he knew.

*

Troi looked down at her own uniform. It was a safe assurance that this particular uniform that was not going to be worn again anytime soon. No wonder one of the ensigns looked at her wide eyed. Between the splattering of Picard's blood, Beverly's and her own blood, she looked like she had just walked away from a battle. She looked over to Beverly, who was resting now, was feeling some sort of peace, this she could tell, but there were still thoughts hanging in the air.

Picard came in the doors. He saw Troi, and she silently directed him to Beverly's currently vacant office. Reluctantly, he followed., stealing glances back at Beverly. "Deanna..." he began. She looked like hell, he decided. Her face was stained, her uniform in blood... in Beverly's blood.

"She was in the holodeck, running a program about the Borg..."

"With Locutis?"

She hesitated. "Yes...she was... I'm not clear on what she was doing exactly, well, the point is that she designed the program to be as realistic as possible... what I am trying to say... well, she didn't design any sort of safety features... she provoked the program somehow, and it... she's going to be fine, she just needs some rest."

"Do you think I could talk to her?"

"I think it would wouldn't be wise right now. It's been a very trying day, for her and for you."

What did *I* do, he thought. What have I done?

"Captain, first and foremost, do not blame yourself. I think that you should take a few days off yourself... maybe even away from the ship... you and Beverly."

"Together?"

"I think it might be the best thing to do..." For your sanity and my own. For this ship. For your crew. "Go speak to the Commander and see if there is a class M planet in the area that you could visit, perhaps charter a shuttle..."

There was a long pause. "Thank you, Deanna," Picard said quietly. He wasn't gritty, but at least he could do something to make up for his behavior. He felt confidant that he could at least do something to help her, to please her. He left the room, and Deanna sunk back into the chair and closed her eyes.

She had a craving for some chocolate.

VI.

"Try to forget this,

Try to erase this,

From the blackboard..."

Jeremy - Pearl Jam

It had been a few hours when Beverly opened her eyes. Deanna was there, in a clean uniform, holding her hand. "Hi." Beverly whispered, a tired smile on her face.

"Hi there." Deanna smiled back gently. "Feeling a little better?"

"Just a little stupid." She sighed.

"I don't think stupid is a very becoming word." She said. "I don't think you have done anything today that was stupid."

"Careless, idiotic and foolish, oh, but not stupid." Beverly began. " This was just a bad day from the start. I should have *skipped* breakfast this morning."

"We spoke about that," Deanna said.

"I *doubt* that would have changed things." Beverly slowly began to sit up. "I think he was being self righteous and thinking that he was the only person that suffered in this universe. I think I'm sick of him acting like he was expelled from the Garden of Eden or something."

"I think you need to talk to him about how you feel. I can understand that your friendship has see a lot of stain recently..."

"Recently?" Beverly interrupted. She slowly slid off the biobed. Her face became serious as she focused on standing.

"For a while," Deanna rephrased, lending her arm to steady Beverly, "and it is something that needs to be addressed by the both of you. Therefore, you have been both been ordered to take a medical leave consisting of ten days on Akathisia, a class M planet in the Thixotropic System."

"OH!" Beverly tried to walk a few steps, which hurt like hell, and what Deanna said about made her jump out of her skin. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Deanna."

"Beverly," she said quietly, "I really think it is time that the two of you settle on what kind of relationship you have together. The whole ship knows, Starfleet knows about it, I think you need to know about it. He needs to know about it."

"Is it what the ship knows about you and Will? And Starfleet... half of the known universe..." Beverly smiled as Deanna helped her walk out of sickbay.

"We're not talking about me," Deanna protested.

"Fine, but make sure to log that I officially object to this medical leave *and* that I think that the First Officer and one Deanna Troi need to explore their feelings for one another."

"I don't think I want to help you pack if I have to hear this the whole time..." Deanna said smiling.

Beverly stopped smiling. "I don't think you have much to worry about. I doubt this 'medical leave' is going to be much help for our personal relationship, just our professional one." She whispered. "If being telepathically bonded didn't help, I doubt this will either."

*

Jean-Luc Picard pulled the trunk from underneath the foot of his bed. It was a Grey box about three feet by thee feet long and only six or so inches high. The lower left hand corner had a simple ten digit control panel. He entered the correct code, and the lid opened slightly. He pulled

the lid open completely.

There were many treasures of his here; his copy of "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare", his family photo album... there were a number of silly trinkets here; things he would never admit to keeping. Folded neatly was a uniform, an older Starfleet uniform, back when they were an more reddish brown color, stained with blood, black with age, and a hole towards the middle. He reached beneath that and pulled out a small gray velvet box, about as large as the palm of his hand. He opened it to reveal three pieces of jewelry. A ring, gold band, with two stones, each three fourth of a centimeter, a deep rich blue, *like a certain woman's eyes* shaped like hearts, with the points inwards, so it resembled a bow. There was a pair of matching earrings, a single heart made of the same stone, and a delicate necklace on a gold chain, with a gold locket, not much larger than his thumbnail, that had a smaller heart of the same blue stone inlayed. He placed the items back in the box, and set the box aside. He then pulled out another bound volume, it was a collection of sonnets by the Bard, and locked the storage unit, pushing it back underneath his bed.

These Items he placed in the in one of the two travel duffels on his bed, and he placed several items of clothing over them, to keep them from sight.

*

The walk from sickbay to her quarters was a long one. Beverly was moving very slowly, and was in some discomfort, not really in pain. Well, her stomach wasn't in pain. There were other parts of her that were. It was stupidity, plain and simple.

"Are you sure that you should be walking this far, this soon?" Deanna asked as they inched towards Beverly's quarters.

"Yes and no. Yes, to get me out of the sight of my medical team, but no, because it still hurts like all hell. But I have in my quarters an antidote that the medical computer has yet to have."

"What would that be?"

"Peace and quiet, and some black aldran root tea. Plenty of rest, too, about ten days in my quarters should suffice."

"I think that you know as well as I do that you would never get any rest if you stayed on the ship. Besides, it defeats the purpose."

"Who's purpose? Yours? His? This doesn't seem to be what I want at all." Beverly said, inching along.

"It is in your best interest. Call it 'closed room counseling'."

Beverly stopped and looked at Deanna, her eyebrow raised. "'Closed room counseling'?"

"You will either work out your problems, or the next ten days will be the most unbearable of your life. The two of you will either have to work this out together or else."

"Else? Else what?" Beverly began moving slowly again.

Deanna didn't say a word.

*

"In the meantime," Commander William T. Riker continued, "We have a mission to record the collapse of a star in the Nursfat'alikahn system. Not terribly overwhelming work, but enough to keep us busy, none the

less."

"Very good, Number One. I don't feel bad about leaving the ship. Not that I ever felt bad about leaving the ship in your hands, Will." Picard said.

Commander Riker smiled. That prize winning smile. He got up to leave the conference room, "Sir," he said, turning around, "have a good trip."

"Thank you, Will." Picard said, rising to his feet, "I'll be in the shuttle bay, preparing to leave."

"Yes sir."

*

Beverly sat on her couch, an open travel cases at her feet, a hot cup of black aldran tea in hand.

"How about this?" Deanna said, coming out of the bedroom, holding several items of clothing in one arm, a long satin flowing dress, not too different from the white - once white - sundress she had on. "This is a beautiful color, almost the same color of your eyes."

"No. Just the sweaters and jumpsuits." She said. "There's also a white robe set, the one with the pants. I want that one to come."

"None of the dresses?" Deanna said, somewhat disappointed.

"Not a single one. Put them all back." She took another sip of the tea.

Deanna sighed. "Alright." She retreated back into the bedroom. Deanna looked at the open travel case for a moment, and placed the blue dress into it anyway. Then, a rich burgundy colored one, and a black one of the same design. "Which robe set?" She called to Beverly.

"The white one," she replied from the bedroom. Deanna opened Beverly's closet, and found the white terrycloth set, a combination pant/top set, and a blue set, that was satin, and much more flattering. Deanna put that into the travel case. Then to hide her clothing selections, Deanna chose a gray jumpsuit with a matching short jacket, a black sweater/pant set and a flowing cream blouse and matching leggings. She snapped the case shut.

Deanna came back into the room, trying to hide her smile. "Alright, Beverly, what else would you like?"

"Hmm," she said, finishing her tea, "Just a uniform, and my medkit. Oh, and my hairbrush, and things."

"No problem." Deanna scooped up the other travel case and retreated to the bedroom, packing Beverly's beauty kit, with her perfume included, and four more outfits that Deanna deemed "appropriate." She came out of the bedroom a few moments later, with the travel case and Beverly's medkit. "Okay, go in and change, and let's go."

"If I must," Beverly said.

VII.

"Hold on to the thread,

The current will shift,

Glide me towards you..."

Oceans - Pearl Jam

"Here are your landing coordinates, and where you will be staying," Commander Riker said, handing the datapadd to Picard, as they walked towards the shuttle. "The Starfleet Ambassador of Akathisia, Roland Loveless, insisted that you and the Doctor dine with him at least once on your visit, but wouldn't mind a few more visits as well."

"I think that we can manage at least one visit, Number One. Where is the Doctor?"

"Right here." Beverly said, walking in slowly, Deanna at her side.

"Doctor," Riker said, noticing her slowed pace and difficulty walking, went to her. "Are you alright?"

She stifled a groan. "Just a little Holodeck mishap. I'll be fine, I just need some rest."

He eyed her skeptically. "Are you sure?"

She gave William Riker a look. It wasn't pretty.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he said, walking back on to solid ground. "I was just telling the Captain that Ambassador Roland Loveless invited you and the Captain to dinner during your stay."

"How nice. Now be a good First Officer and get the hell out of my way." She smiled a little.

"Oh, right," Will said, moving out of her and Deanna's way.

Picard stood at the shuttle, not sure what to do. He was glued to the spot, he wanted to run and help her into the shuttle, but he was violently afraid that she would refuse his help. It was an agonizing five minutes watching Beverly and Deanna walk to the shuttle. He probably looked like

some sort of gaping fool. It was as if he was seeing her for the very first time; like he had never seen a woman before that moment. She was beautiful. She could be a thousand years old, she would still be beautiful. When they did arrive, he tried to help her into the shuttle, but she silently rebuked his touch. That small motion hurt more than anything he felt in a long time.

"Here Captain," Deanna said, handing him a second datapadd, after Beverly was seated. "This is for Dr. Crusher. She needs to take this medication at the times indicated," she pressed a button to change the screen of information, she can start her skin regeneration in a few days as indicated here, and that she eats enough, and receives enough rest."

Beverly looked back and scowled at Deanna.

"Well, yes. We must be on our way." Picard said.

Deanna walked over to Commander Riker as the shuttle powered up and the bay doors opened.

"Do you think it will work?" Commander Riker said.

"It'll take a miracle." Deanna said, pressing her hand into his.

Commander Riker smiled.

Picard would have been more comfortable with someone other than her. He wanted to be near her, heaven knew that, but she didn't even raise an eye to look at him or to acknowledge him. The trip was well underway, and he did not have plans to sit in silence. He hoped.

She was tired, and depressed didn't even seem to be the word that described her mood. She was angry, livid, yet hopeless, upset. She was everything and nothing, and she didn't know what to say. This wasn't her fault, after all. A small sigh escaped her lips. Maybe it was her fault as much as it was his. She didn't know. She didn't care at this point. She would say anything, or pray to any being that would let this silence end. By her calculations, she was certain that they at least had another eight hours in the shuttle craft before they reached Akathisia. She didn't want to spend them in silence. She hoped. She could swear that she felt that her heart was going to sink when she saw him get up from his piloting station and retreat into the cargo area.

The sigh, he would decide later on, was what had done it, that told him that she was feeling similar feelings at hat particular moment. That he was foolish and angry, a coward and a fool, and very little things he could say at this moment would have helped the situation at all. That loved her, something that he had such trouble admitting to himself for quite sometime. He went to his bag, and from beneath the book of sonnets, he recovered that little box, removing just the earrings and necklace, leaving the ring behind. He had another purpose for that item planned later.

Beverly Crusher looked out unto the stars. They held such promise someday, others, like at this moment, she realized that they were he enemy, that they take away so many things from her, mainly, the men that she loved. Her husband, her son, Jean-Luc. Her eyes started to brim with tears again, for umpteen time that day.

Jean-Luc Picard watched her for a few moments, at her hair in the pale light, though it was laced with blonde streaks, that endearing red hair still burned beneath it, much like passion. "Beverly," he whispered, moving around the front of her, kneeling down so he could look into her face. "Beverly, I'm sorry. For everything. I mean that. I've...haven't been kind with the things I've said, and I'm not sure what to do to correct it. I wish I could take back all my words, any words that may have hurt you, I know I can't, but I wish I could, and I hope that may mean something to you."

He stopped for a moment and looked in her eyes. She looked vulnerable, as did he, and they both knew that look. The one where he was close to falling into the abyss of admitting his love for her, as she would for he. Their eyes hung there for a very long moment before he spoke.

"I would like to give you something, and I would like you know that I have never offered these to anyone else; they are very important, you see, and if anyone should have them, I think it is you." He took her hands, and set the earrings and necklace into them.

Oh my god, she thought, these are beautiful. The stone was unlike anything that she had ever seen before, and they were simply, breathtaking, as the man that was on his knees in front of her.

"They were my great-great grandmother's you see, and well...I think that you should have them."

The look was still in their eyes. "Will you put the necklace on me, please Jean-Luc?" He smiled, and from behind, he put the necklace on her. He slowly walked around the her as she put the earrings on.

By the time he sat in the seat across from her, the look in her eyes was gone. She stared blankly at the stars, wearing his great-great grandmother's engagement jewelry.

VIII.

"Hear my name, take a good look

This could be the day

Hold my hand, walk beside me

I just need to say... "

Porch - Pearl Jam

Four hours later, she decided that it was the fact that he managed to speak to her first about it was what drove her crazy; that he had managed to say something to her before she could speak to him. She tried studying a datapadd about the roots and herbs that could be found on Akathisia she may not be able to find anywhere else, to add to her personal collection, but it was no use. She kept catching herself staring at Jean-Luc, and when she was not staring at him, she was absently playing with the necklace, or with the earrings. Most importantly, she was not paying attention to the datapadd. She could feel her eyes getting droopy, again.

Jean-Luc Picard noticed. It was hope, a distant hope, that she caressed the locket, that she stared at him as he sipped his Earl Grey tea, and read Hamlet for the millionth time. He could recite it by heart, but he needed sometime to keep him from saying, or doing something foolish. Then, it happened. He may have missed it if he wasn't paying any attention, but she dozed off. The datapadd slipped from her fingers onto the floor. She still looked as beautiful as ever.

He let out a sigh. She had been very nice to him, all things considered on their first half of the trip; she let him give her medication, and drink tea. She was off in her own little world, thinking about something, or someone. As much as he would like to think it was him, the way that she gazed at the stars, he had a feeling that it was her son. Staring at her now, freely, with worry, he began to let his mind wander.

He longed to hold her in his arms, to press her close to his chest. To feel her lay close to him. To be with him at night, to hold his hand during the day. He wanted to kiss her deeply, slowly, romantically. He wanted to share his soul with her.

For a foolish moment, he thought that he could die happy watching her sleep peacefully across from him. Then, he realized that he would never be happy unless he was holding her in his arms, and that she was his wife. That they shared everything about one another, that she knew the deepest darkest secrets that lurked within him. He wanted her to know everything about him. How he thought, how he dreamed...

Hours later, her mind still wandered.

She could imagine being a cloud, a cloud in space, floating among the stars. She felt silly, a cloud in space, shinning an amber color, twinkling a pink and blue. She felt that she was searching for something, but she wasn't sure what it was. With that thought, she fell herself spinning, falling away into the darkness, as the stars fell away from her as she fell faster, surrounded by the UN-welcoming colors of the Borg. Metallic grays, greens and reds welcomed her. Is this what she had left, she wondered, the welcoming arms of Locutis of Borg....?

Beverly Crusher woke up in fear.

"Beverly?" Picard asked, gently.

Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears.

Jean-Luc Picard went to her, standing behind her, caressing her shoulders, her neck, wiping her tears away. Not saying anything, but stroking her hair and face.

"I love you," she breathed in a voice he could not hear.

*

Akathisia was very similar to Earth in the sense of atmosphere and physical aspects. However, the residents of Akathisia had a rich history of music and performing arts, and the residents, which were a breeding of human and distant Vulcan and Betazoid lineage, prided themselves in performing other culture's music and theatre in addition to their own. There was always a mixture of event and activities that made Akathisia a busy place to live and play in. In addition to their actors and actresses, singers and dancers, their artwork and natural resources were a constant source of income.

Beverly reviewed this bit of information over again in her mind as Picard landed the shuttlecraft on the surface; on a landing pad near two white stucco buildings. She was feeling emotionally drained, and was thankful that the trip was over. It was not that she didn't enjoy the company, but

it have given her too much time to think about her life, and she didn't like it. It made her feel foolish about her life, like she managed not to achieve anything her entire existence. Picard helped her out of the shuttlecraft; she was not in any major pain, but she still managed to feel stiff. They emerged from the shuttle to the sight of Roland Loveless.

Roland Loveless was just forty years old, and seemed to have aged well. He had dark black hair and gray slate eyes that seemed on first impression to look past you, and if they did manage to find you, they saw right through you. His hair was speckled in gray; his face was smooth, he had a rugged, almost daring look to him, and a pleasant smile. He was dressed in a standard one piece command uniform. The only outstanding difference was that he wore a gray scarf that dangled freely from his neck.

"Captain Picard, Doctor Crusher, Welcome." His voice was pleasant, yet sounded rugged, almost raspy. "I am Roland Loveless. Ambassador Loveless. Welcome to Akathisia, my home. You will have to forgive me, I haven't been running by Starfleet rules for a while. Things run a little bit differently around here."

Beverly Crusher was taken aback by Roland Loveless. There was something about him, his appearance that she couldn't put her finger on...something that attracted her. Picard smiled warmly, extended his hand, and Loveless shook it firmly.

"Father, Father, Father!" A little girl about seven years old ran from the nearest building, long curly black hair in a high pony tale ran towards them, wearing a long gray dress, that looked like something like a doll would wear the shade of her and her father's eyes, waving a book as she rushed towards them. "Are you coming? you promised you'd finish my play!"

"Ah, Ophelia, just a moment, love, we must welcome our visitors." He smiled at her, and picked her up into his arms, her book still in hand. "This is my daughter, Ophelia. Daring, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise, and Chief Medical Officer Dr. Beverly Crusher."

Jean-Luc could have sworn that this is what Deanna Troi looked like at that age. "Hello there, Ophelia." he said.

She smiled and said to him. "I know you! Father let me read some things about you! Do you like living on a ship? Why don't you live in your vineyard?"

"Oh, Ophelia," Loveless said to her. "Ask him about that later, dear. We have a few things to talk about." He slid her down on to the ground.

"Oh, Father," she sighed. "I have remembrances of yours, that I have longed long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them." With that, she threw the book at him, and tried her best to storm off. She wasn't really angry, because she looked back and smiled.

Loveless had caught the book before it hit the ground, and smiled back at her. "Forgive me," he said to Picard and Crusher, "My daughter and I were reading... well, let me show you around the compound briefly, if you don't mind..."

"Actually," Beverly said, not really in the mood to walk anywhere, "I would like to pass on that for the moment... is there someplace where I could relax..."

"Oh, yes... I noticed you were in a little discomfort, dear Doctor." Loveless stood next to her and pointed to the white stucco building in which his daughter retreated to. "You can go into there, and make yourself at home. Ophelia might have a lot of questions for you." Loveless smiled at her, warmly...almost invitingly.

"I think I can manage," Beverly said, heading towards the building.

"I hope so, dear Doctor, I hope so." Loveless said to her. "Come, Picard, there are many things to see."

Picard watched Beverly walk away, as Ambassador Loveless pulled him in another direction. He didn't want to leave her.

IX.

"On the edge, windowsill

Ponders his maker, ponders his will ...."

Deep - Pearl Jam

Beverly Crusher sat down on the oversized gray couch that decorated the center of the room. Directly in front of her was a fireplace, and the walls were draped in Starfleet maroon and black, like curtains on a stage. Ophelia laid on the floor, reading another book in front of the fireplace. As soon as Beverly sat down the girl spoke to her.

"Do I look like Deanna?" She asked innocently enough, not looking up from her book.

Beverly smiled. "How do you know Deanna?"

"The Captain said that I looked like her." Ophelia looked up at her, her eyes and lips smiling.

"Now, I don't think the Captain said that aloud, now did he?" Beverly said.

"It's my curse," Ophelia said plainly, returning back to her book. "Father says it is my curse. He believes that we should take nothing for a blessing, and nothing for granted. My mother was from Betazed. Father's mother was from Betazed, but his father was not. So I have the curse."

"Oh, now being a telepath is not a curse, it is a wonderful gift. Deanna is from Betazed as well." Beverly said, slowly sitting up.

"Father doesn't think it's a gift," she sighed. Her tone shifted "Deanna is from Betazed? Really? She's your friend, huh?"

"She's a very close friend of mine and the Captain's." Beverly said, staring at the child in amazement.

Ophelia picked up her book, as well as herself, and walked across the room and sat on the couch next to Beverly. "She your best friend, huh?" She said, letting her age slip. "And you love the Captain, huh?"

Beverly smiled. "You are quite sharp, you know that, Ophelia?"

She grinned. "Father says that it's going to get me in trouble being this pre, ah, precocious." She crinkled her nose. "That didn't sound right. Anyway, he says that maybe he shouldn't let me read anymore books, but I say that they are my friends, and he says that's okay. Like this book," she said, pointing to it, "Hamlet. This one is my favorite."

"Ah," Beverly said, smiling. "What does your Mom think of that?"

"I don't know. Mommy's dead." Ophelia say it so matter-of-factly, that Beverly was in shock. "Oh, it's okay. Really," The little girl placed her hand on Beverly's. "Mommy died doing what she wanted, and Father says, that's what's important. Were you on the Enterprise a long time ago? If

you were, you might have been there. Mommy was on the USS Bronte at Wolf 359."

*

"I think these quarters will be more than sufficient for you and the good doctor." Ambassador Loveless has escorted Picard to the second of the two white stucco buildings; and the setup was quite nice. There were two bedrooms, a main room, with the fireplace and curtain like wall hangings in black and blue that hid entrances to a bathroom, a rather spacious bathroom, a study, and a kitchen area. "We don't often have a lot of Starfleet Brass around."

"They look sufficient." Picard said. He had nothing against Loveless personally, but Picard was more than anxious to return to Beverly's side. He wanted to pull her aside and tell her everything before he lost his nerve.

"Excellent. Oh," He lowered his voice slightly. "If you need anything for the Doctor, just contact Doctor Gossard at the MedStation. He's the best we have." Loveless stared at Picard with his slate eyes. Picard wasn't noticing him, or much of what he had to say, as if he was not even there...it only figures, once a...

"Oh, yes, of course, I will." Picard said, lost in his thoughts of Beverly.

...Borg, always a Borg. "Would you like to return to my quarters instead Captain? We could always tour the area later... there are still plenty of hours left in this day."

Picard's eyes lit up. "Yes, could we please?"

It seemed like the only thing Picard hear the entire time so far. "After you," Loveless said, extending his hand. As Picard walked ahead of him, Loveless could barely keep from sneering. Loveless was angry, yet in a state of joy; Picard had ended up on his end of the universe, and he was going to take full advantage of the situation, for Jenna.

*

"Your mother died at Wolf 359?" Beverly asked. She felt horrible. Everything that had happened today did not make her feel very well. Again. she was wishing this day was over.

"Yes, but don't mention it to Father. He doesn't like to talk about it. He is angry at the Borg."

"Well," Beverly said, trying to sound convincing, "They are no longer a threat to you or anyone else, Ophelia, so don't worry about it." Oh, god, where is Jean-Luc, she thought. I'm going to end up scaring this girl to death... especially what happened to me today.

"But he hurt you today, didn't he?" She asked.

"Oh, Ophelia, that was something out of the Holodeck..." Beverly said, trying to find words to explain it, when she said;

"I meant the one not in the Holodeck, the Captain." She paused. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk about such things." She pulled her hand away and got up from the couch, back to her spot on the floor in front of the fireplace with her book. "Father says it's rude and I can hurt people's feelings. I'm sorry. Maybe Father can teach you to build a brick."

She tried to smile. "A brick? Do you mean like a wall, or a mental block?"

"Block." She confirmed. "Father has a block. His is so strong, I can't read it. Mommy couldn't either. She used to say that was why they got married, because he could still surprise her."

Captain Picard and Ambassador Loveless entered the quarters. "Hello love," Loveless said, looking at Beverly. He wasn't leering, just looking innocently. So it seemed.

"Hello Father." Ophelia said.

"Now, you've been nice to the Doctor, now haven't you?" His eyes were still focused on Beverly. She felt a chill go up and down her spine.

"Oh yes. She told me she has a friend named Deanna and that she's Betazoid just like me!" Ophelia got up and went to him; Loveless picked her up into his arms.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Loveless said, focused back onto his daughter. "Now, we mush go to your theatre troupe meeting, and let the Doctor and Captain get settled. Come on love, let's go." He started to walk out the door, before he turned around and said to Beverly, "If you are feeling up to it, Ophelia and I eat dinner at eight. Oh, ah, 20:00 hours. Sorry. Come love!" Loveless and his daughter went out the door.

Picard stood there for a moment longer before he spoke. "Beverly, would you like to go to our quarters?" Not the question he would have liked to ask, but she did not look very well. She looked absolutely drained.

"Oh, yes, please." Anything to get this day over with, she thought.

"Will you be able to walk a little ways?" He asked.

"As long as you promise to help me, Jean-Luc." She said.

"Always." He responded, walking to her.

*

After taking Ophelia to her class; Roland came to the knotted tree in field behind his home. Beneath the tree was a gray marble stone; inscribed with 'The truth is the spirit', and a name, Jenna Michelle Loveless.

"Oh, Jenna, I miss you so much," he said tracing the letters of her name. "I saw the Doctor and her eyes, they are the same color as yours, and I couldn't help but think of you..."

Roland and Jenna had met on his previous command, as Captain of the USS Bronte. She was a nurse that had a minor in behavioral sciences; the Bronte was her first assignment in space. They took their time, and has a strong relationship over the five years that they were aboard the Bronte. One day, things changed. When Jenna became pregnant with Ophelia, one of them had to leave the ship to raise her. The Bronte was not a family ship, and there were no positions for a captain on one that was. They wanted a family; and though the timing was not ideal, they would make do. They had no family between them; they had to look for other options. So, they both

began to submit requests for transfers to planet side assignments. On the day that they were married aboard the Bronte, Starfleet gave them as a wedding gift, a promotion to Ambassador on Akathisia. When Jenna had the baby, he brought her here, and waited for Jenna's tour of duty to be completed in year.

A day that never came.

Everyday that Ophelia grew, she looked more and more like her mother.

Jenna was a tall woman; she was almost as tall as he was. She had long black hair; it was to her waist, that tended to be curly, unless she took a brush to it to make it flat. She had light skin and large blue eyes that saw everything; and she was sensual in everything that she did. The only notable difference was that Ophelia had his eyes; the eerie slate gray.

"Jenna, I don't know what to do, please help." Roland said. "I know that I said if the opportunity ever came I would take it; but now I am not so sure. I know that the Borg still live within him; they keep saying they are dead, but...what if he comes across a ship... he could become one of them again, and no one would be safe, no one!"

He leaned over the tombstone, trying to hold it close, to bring his life into it. "Jenna, what am I going to do? I promised you I would eliminate the threat once and for all, for Ophelia, for our love...for everyone..."

The gravestone spoke volumes by its silence.

Roland wept.

X. 

"I'll ride the wave where it takes me   
I'll hold the pain...release me..."

Release - Pearl Jam 

Picard sat on the couch, leaning forward as he held the ring between two fingers. He was holding the fate of their relationship; he stared at the ring, and wondered at its meaning. He didn't know what to say; how to say it. He thought back about the only other woman that he had ever proposed marriage to; true, it was when he was only twenty, and so was she (which seemed so distant now...) and the kind of relationship they still had. They never spoke about it since; she knew it was wrong, and she didn't want a husband... and he owed her his life on more than one occasion. She always held it over his head; that he had misunderstood everything between them, and that he was nothing. Even after all this time, it still hung over his head whenever he saw her, or heard her name. The year Katherine Pulaski spent on the Enterprise was a personal hell for him. There were some days he almost swore she took the assignment on purpose to drudge back into memory. Now, he wouldn't wish her on anyone. How quite foolish it all was. Looking back on it; he didn't offer her this ring, never thought to, and that what may have saved himself for this moment. What to say... 

Maybe he didn't have to say anything. Picard walked to Beverly's bedroom, tapping lightly on the door. 

"Damn it," Beverly said, putting things from the bed back into the travel case. She was wearing the blue dress that Deanna had packed. She only wore it because it matched the necklace and earrings that Jean-Luc had given her. She was a bit livid because there wasn't a thing that she really wanted to wear. Deanna was going to hear it from her when she got back to the Enterprise. 

She set the case onto the floor as she heard the knock. The bedroom was quite spacious, with a very classical look to it. There was a large four poster bed; two night stands, one on each side, and a chest, with a large mirror. From the ceiling, the same shade of blue material drooped down, creating an air, almost dreamlike atmosphere. She moved slowly across to the door. "Just a moment." 

Jean-Luc was looking down when she opened the door. "Jean-Luc?" she asked. 

Upon seeing her, 'Merde,' he thought, 'she looks beautiful.' She was quite a vision in the doorway; in that blue dress that matched her eyes; those earrings and necklace. *And that dress *. Simplistic, yet stunning.

He raised his finger to his lips to silence her. He gently pushed on the door, and she let it open for him. She let him in, curious why he was silent. He walked in, around her to shut the door. He took her hand, and slowly, because she was still a little stiff, lead her to the bed, indicating for her to sit down at the foot of the bed. 

'He's was acting strangely', she thought. She sat though, waiting. 'He must have something to say'. "Jean-Luc?" she asked. 

He took his hand and gently put it onto her lips to silence her. Jean-Luc Picard then moved onto his knee, and took her left hand into his. He lifted it slowly and turned it so her palm was open. 

'My god, what is he doing?' she thought. She shivered. Not that she wanted it to stop. Not ever. 

Jean-Luc lifted her wrist to his lips and gently kissed. He then took her hand and returned it to its original position. From the folds of his uniform where he had hidden it, he produced the matching ring, and slid it onto her ring finger. He stared at it a moment and looked up at her as if for the very first time. 

Beverly couldn't breathe. Maybe she wouldn't breathe again. She wasn't sure which one it was. After everything that had happened that day alone, she wasn't sure what to think. At this point; she was only certain of one thing, she didn't want to think about it anymore. 

It was that moment again. The moment where they would look and wait... and be disappointed at the outcome. 

Not this time, though. 

Beverly took his hand and raised his wrist to hers and kissed it in return, her eyes locked with his. She then stood up, never letting go; she was afraid she might loose him if she did, and started to lead him around to the side of the bed. He stood, and let her lead him there. 

"I love you," he said, his voice a little horse. 

Beverly's eyes began to brim with tears. She put her finger over his lips and pulled him down as she sat on the bed. He knelt next to her; and he did something that he wanted to do for years. He kissed her softly, afraid that he might hurt her. He slipped his arm behind her to pull her close to him. 

Beverly let her arms slide around Jean-Luc, and she slowly began to lay back down, bringing him with her. He then slowly rolled over, letting Beverly lay across him. They broke the kiss, and looked at each other for a few moments. 

When she smiled, nothing else in the world mattered at that moment. 

The urgency settled in. Beverly tugged at his uniform; he let his hands slide the thin straps of her dress down off her shoulders, lower, exposing her to him. Again, being as gentle as he could, yet trying to satisfy his need, he tipped his head and began to kiss her. 

That was the moment that the phaser fired over their heads, sending pieces of dust of the wall showering over them. 

XI.

"After all is done, and we're still alone

I won't be taken, yet I'll go...with my hands bound

I will walk...with my face blood..."

Garden - Pearl Jam

Beverly coughed as the dust and miniature pieces of the wall coated her exposed body. Picard stopped his task and turned to see Roland Loveless, pointing a phaser at them, as his hand shook almost violently. The man was a literal mess, his eyes red and puffy, tears still streaming down his face. He looked like a rabid dog; almost insane. It was very hard to believe that he was the clean cut man that had met their shuttle just a mere hour or so before.

"Move off of her slowly," Loveless managed to say. He may have looked the lunatic, but his voice was strong, and as about soothing as a chalk board.

Picard slowly pulled his weight off of her, not sure which direction to go. Eventually, he ended up sitting next to her on the bed, as she slowly pulled her dress back up into its correct position, covering herself once again.

"I didn't realize that you and the Doctor were on so intimate terms. That's going to tend to complicate things a little in regards to what I had in mind, you see. The dear Doctor was going to suffer a horrible, horrible accident to be blamed on you , Locutis." He smiled, like a lunatic. "But the game plan has changed a little, now hasn't it?"

"Ambassador, I'm not sure what you mean by this but-" Picard was cut off in mid sentence as Loveless shot again into the wall above his head.

"I don't know what it is that I'm going to have to do to you *or* her, but you will understand. You will understand what's it's like to live alone; without the one person that gave your life meaning. You will understand the threat that you are; to me, my daughter, my planet, my existence. You must die; and if you have one more to take with you, so be it." Loveless stormed around to Beverly's side of the bed and grabbed her arm and pulling it across her body. "Come on dear," he said. pulling off the bed onto the floor, keeping his eyes and the phaser on Picard.

Beverly moaned in pain. This was not a good twenty four hours. Things were not improving, either. She ended up landing on Loveless' feet, that managed to be at the moment in her stomach. He held her arm tightly; well above her head.

"Wait!" Picard said. "We can discuss whatever you like, just you and me, without the Doctor."

Loveless looked at him even harder. "What kind of an idiot do you think I am?" he said, pressing a foot up into Beverly's stomach.

"Oh!" She almost screamed.

Picard's face was a wash of anger and concern.

For the first time, he looked down at her. "Dear, dear, dear Doctor, whatever did you do?"

Bastard, she thought, this man was a certified bastard. She lifted her head so she wasn't talking to the carpet. "Holodeck accident."

"Well, it looks like it won't be your last accident either. Stand up dear."

Reluctantly, she did so. Loveless still had a tight grip on her arm, and pulled her up roughly. She fought the overwhelming urge to start crying. It was as if for the first time in her life, things were going to go right; then the ground was pulled out from underneath her. She looked at Picard, thinking, I am so sorry.

He saw the look, and the fear in her eyes. He felt it as well. *Forgive me, Beverly *, he thought. "What are you going to do?" he asked Loveless.

"I don't know," he said, staring intently at Picard. "There are so many things one could do. Maybe, just *maybe* she might live if you answer my questions."

Silence hung in the air for a few long moments.

"I want to know how my wife died," he said, tears starting to squeeze from his eyes. "I want you to tell me how you did it and why. I want to know how you bastard. I WANT AT LEAST THAT." Loveless screamed to him. "I want to know why my daughter doesn't have a Mother. Did you see her? She looks just like her. Just like her. She is a blessing, my little girl; but she reminds me everyday that my wife is gone, and it's because of you."

Picard was stunned. What? "Ambassador, I'm sorry, but I don't know..."

"LIAR! YOU LIAR!" Loveless screamed. He pushed Beverly away from him, towards Picard and the bed, and shot the phaser.

Picard's voice caught in his throat as he expected Beverly's body to disappear forever.

She didn't.

Loveless had the phaser on the highest possible stun setting, and Beverly's body convulsed as she landed halfway across the bed. then, she stopped moving. Picard pulled her towards him, turning her over so he could see her face.

"She'll live, for the moment, for my purpose, but I don't see why you would even care." Loveless said. "*Locutis. *" Loveless wiped his face carelessly with his sleeve, rubbing away snot and tears. He walked out the door, shutting it, and locking it from the outside behind him.

"Beverly," Picard whispered. "Beverly."

There was no response from her. Picard slid off the bed, laying her back down carefully, and began to look around the room for her medkit. She never traveled without one; and she didn't disappoint him. He used the tricorder, got her vitals, and administer a hypo to ease the shock. She was going to be alright, once she came around.

As she laid across the bed, Picard held his face in his hands. What the hell was going on? He didn't understand. Picard didn't know Loveless personally, and wished he had taken a moment to read up on him. Obviously, the man has some *issues* with the Borg. Hundreds of people died needlessly, but taking responsibility for any of those deaths never crossed his mind. It was determined that he was not in control of his actions; absolution, resolution from sin and guilt. Until today; from Beverly in her way, and from this man that had lost the woman he loved. who almost took away the woman he loved. He *still* plans to, if they did not find a way out of this.

She stirred. Picard slowly took her back into his arms as she awoke. "Jean-Luc?" she whispered.

"I'm here. We're alone for the moment." He gently stroked her hair.

She held to him as if she was drowning. "His wife... she died at Wolf 359."

His hand stopped for a moment. "How do you..."

"His daughter." she finished.

"We've got to get out of here;" Picard said. "We've got to get a hold of the ship or the local authorities or someone."

"How?" She asked. "No one knows we're here; and the Enterprise is well out of range of our comm badges."

Picard thought on it a moment. "His daughter. She must know what he's..."

She shook her head. "No, she's strong, but he's blocked his feelings from her well."

He pulled her closer into his arms. "Any ideas?"

"Not a one." She sighed.

XII. 

"Voices in me head...ooh, voices  
I got scratches, all over my arms  
One for each day, since I fell apart  
I did...oh, what I had to do, if there was a reason, it was you..."

Footsteps - Pearl Jam 

The moment that the door had closed, Jean-Luc Picard sprang into action. He knew that Beverly was not safe with Loveless; and he was determined to find a way out of the room. He went to the door first to see if there was anyway to access the control panel on the other side; which there was not. He covered the parimenter of the room, and of course discovered that there were no other openings; with the exception of a vent in the upper corner of the back wall, but entirely too small to be of any real use. 

He then resorted then to Beverly's medkit that was neatly tucked partially under the bed. He flipped it open, and got the tricorder out. He sat onto the bed and began to tap away at it, trying to change the custom settings from medical preferences to scientific preferences. It took him a few minutes longer than he planned; it took him a minute to come up with Beverly's password to alter the settings. 

His stomach tightened when he heard the dull thud against the wall. His fingers worked rapidly, and then began to scan through the wall. The tricorder determined their positions and relayed to him where they were. He then tried to establish a link with the door control; to escape from the room somehow to get to Beverly. He could not try to create a link and watch their readings at the same time; so he put all of his effort into opening the door. 

It may have been a blessing that he did not witness the fight between Loveless and Beverly. 

* 

She wasn't quite sure if she was awake. She felt awake; at least that she thought that she felt awake. It was very dark where she was, and she didn't have the power or desire to open her eyes at that particular moment. She could only vaguely remember where she was. What came to mind didn't want her to remember where she was either. She heard the sniffles and the meager sobs of the man at the foot of the bed; and decided that laying quite still was her best option. 

He knew he was in far over his head. He had a Starship Captain held hostage in one room; he had a battered and bruised CMO at his side and his daughter was due home in the very near future, and he could not justify his actions to her; she may not understand that it was for her and for her future. He wasn't quite sure what to do. 

Was it brilliance or insanity that flashed in his mind? He wasn't quite sure; but the idea struck him none the less. 

* 

It wasn't working. Picard was getting tired, taping his fingers, thinking of paths to take; and he still couldn't get connected to the system. He stood dangerously close to the door, with the rational that perhaps the closer he was; the more success that he may have in breaking into the computer's sub routines to de-activate the lock. He altered the settings and scanned the house. 

There was no one left but him. 

She muffled a curse as Loveless slammed her over his should like a sack of garbage. She was still wrapped in the cloth, and was not planning to move as of yet. Her head was beyond foggy; and her thoughts were not quite clear. She wished that Jean-Luc was near by or that he was going to be near by, but she didn't know what was going to happen to him. Or to herself. 

Loveless moved across the property that he and his daughter occupied, far from the houses and the lone gravestone. He walked opposite of town, away from civilization. Loveless was not an overly powerful individual; but he had a burst of energy and anger that he was using to his advantage. He had taken Beverly a good two miles in a short amount of time, his legs taking them to a top of a hill. Looking into the valley near by was a beautiful sight; a gray stone building, almost church like laid nestled near three towering trees; and a trickle of a stream was nearby. The sky was closing rapidly from dusk to night; and he had only a short amount of time to set things right before he could end Picard's and the good Doctor's life. 

* 

"Fare you well my dove!" she recited, as her friends broke away from her. The meeting was over, and Ophelia Lynne Loveless walked lazy circles around the water fountain, a rather plain device that showered a purple hued water, near the edge of town. A center of social activities and where the young children of the city went to learn, to rehearse and grow. She waited for her father, as per orders; she always did. She knew that this was the time of day he did most of his work for Starfleet; she was accustomed to waiting over an hour; once even two, for him to come for her. It was a rather silly agreement that they had made; she was quite capable of returning home herself; but she believed that walking her home was one of the few joys he had. The one time he let her come home on her own was a dreadful miscarriage; so she was never allowed to do it again. She wasn't afraid any more; of walking in near darkness, in fact she had taken to sneaking out late at night while he slept, but she still missed the company of her father. He was the only man she ever knew, her only friend and companion, and she owed everything to him. Her brilliance, her life and her love. So, out of duty, honor and respect, she always waited. 

Their home was a mere two, almost two, she corrected miles away, as she stood up on her tip toes, to see if she could see the house. Sometimes she could, sometimes she could not. Their house was very plain, like bricks, and her room was the only one with a window to it. She had forgotten to leave a light on; she didn't see the house. She didn't see anyone heading towards her yet either; so she took off her small shoes, and neatly placed them on the ground next to one another. Ophelia then sat on the edge of the fountain and dipped her small feet into the water. "For Bonny sweet Robin is ..." she crinkled her nose slightly. "..is all my joy..." She couldn't remember. "For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy..." She said again, positive of the line. 

She deepened her voice into different character. "Thought an affliction, passion, hell itself, She turns to favor and to prettiness." 

She returned to herself. "And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead: Go to thy death-bed: He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan: God ha' mercy on his soul! ," She paused. "And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye." She crinkled her little nose again. She screamed as loud as she could, standing in the purple water. "And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead: Go to thy death-bed: He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan: God ha' mercy on his soul! " 

* 

He set her down on the stone floor, careful not to bruise her any more, for the moment. "Stay here dear Doctor. I have tasks to attend." 

She laid as still as she could; she heard a sliding sound, like stone on stone, a metallic clang. Beverly held the position for a few minutes longer to be safe, then slowly tried to move. Her movements were slow; it took her a moment to get her bearings and to shed the cloth that had been her shroud. 

Beverly Crusher was inside a tomb. 

There was very little light; it poured in from a hole near the far end of the tomb, and tree branches crept into it. It appeared that hole was right inside one of the cubby holes for a coffin. The room had space for nine bodies; three on each wall; actually three compartments on each wall, like bookshelves with no books, and a large stone door on the other wall. In vanity, she tried to walk over to the door to push upon it; it was more of a crawling stagger that got her there; and to no avail. She made her way slowly to the poor and only source of light, the hole in the wall where the branches crept in. She raised herself up a step so she could see the space, designed to house a dead body, and knew right away she could not get through the meager opening. Only a child could, maybe, get through. The day was disappearing fast, and unless there was a full moon, she was going to be in cold darkness. She tried to be careful as she could stepping down, but lost her balance and reached back upwards; catching her hand on a blanket of some sort. She tumbled down anyway, falling back on the stone floor, and being littered in objects that were on the blanket she tried to grab for balance. A thick, heavy layer of black soot from a container of some sort covered her. Her hair was black, her dress; and her skin was a pale gray. She coughed slightly, and recognized what she was covered in. It was a stage makeup; designed to stain one's clothes black and skin a shade of gray. It was used mainly for stage hands; so they would not be readily seen by an audience during a show. Unfortunately the only way to get it off was a warm sonic shower. Now her hair was terrible shade of black, and her skin was splotchy, gray, and even black in places. Among the other items around her now was what appeared to be a small cloak of some sort, and what she faintly made out to be as a pair of black slippers. "Wonderful," she muttered aloud. 

She made her way back to the center of the room and found the cloth and began to wrap it around her body. She was beginning to get chilly, and wasn't sure how long she was going to be there. She wanted this to be over, whatever this mad man was going to do. 

* 

"O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt, Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight, Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May! Dear maid, kind *daughter *, sweet Ophelia! O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits Should be as moral as an old man's life? Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, It sends some precious instance of itself After the thing it loves?" 

"Father!" Ophelia squealed in joy. She was still standing in the fountain, her dress a little damper now, as she jumped in pleasure. "Oh, are we going to eat with our guests?" 

"Ah," he sighed, "I think they are still tired, love. They may also have to leave sooner than we thought, too." He said, looking directly into his daughter's eyes. "Maybe tomorrow, yes?" 

"Of course!" She said. "What are we going to eat tonight?" She walked out of the fountain, and sat on the ground as she put her shoes on. 

"Whatever you want love, as long as you promise to *go to bed right after dinner *." 

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Anything? Even ga'ugh ma'k ga?" 

He couldn't help but smile. Ga'ugh ma'k ga was a Klingon dish that was similar in taste to sweet apple pie, but in no way *resembled* apple pie. In fact it was the small intestines and kidney of some sort of animal, he almost sure. "Yes, love." 

She smiled brilliantly, "Oh Father! I love you!" She ran to him and hugged him tightly. "They bore him barefaced on the bier;" she began. "Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny; And in his grave rain'd many a tear:-- Fare you well, my dove!" 

He cleared his throat. "Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus." 

Ophelia began to sing. "You must sing a-down a-down, An you call him a-down-a. O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter." 

"This nothing's more than matter." Loveless said, now holding his daughters hand as they walk towards their home in almost darkness. His mind was quickly drifting elsewhere. 

"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts." She said dutifully. She reached down an grabbed a rock. 

"A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted." I will always remember love, always, he thought. Jenna, I will always remember. 

"There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue for you;" she pressed the rock into his other hand. "and here's some for me: we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died: they say he made a good end,--" 

They will say he made a good end love, they will say it for you. He smiled at her. 

* 

For some insane reason, Picard thought of a passage from the Bard: "And where the offence is let the great axe fall. I pray you, go with me." He had muttered it aloud. He laid back onto the bed for a moment. The tricorder was back in his hand, and he had just tried again to access the door. He was frustrated, and angry at himself that he had not figured out a way out of the room; that he had waited so long to tell Beverly how he felt about her...he went back to the door and continued to try to escape. 

* 

Beverly Howard Crusher wrapped the cloth closer to her skin in a vain attempt to keep warm. 

* 

Deanna Troi, soaked in her own sweat and tears; bolted upright in her bed from a disturbing, haunted dream she could not remember. 

* 

An hour later, Roland Loveless removed the empty Klingon dish from in front of his daughter. She dutifully got up from the table and ran to her father. "Good night Father. I love you." She said. 

"Ah, love," he said hugging her slender body tight, "I love you too. Now off to bed." 

Ophelia kissed his check, and darted to her bedroom. 

When she shut the door behind her, he bolted into his small private study. 

* 

Ophelia stood on her tip toes and punched in her ten digit code to lock the door. Once it was locked, she ran to her antique bed, a four poster bed with a gray canopy above. Her room was not the typical little girls' room; it was lined with bookcases, filled with books she had read. Had read. Not going to read, but had read. A good five hundred books, from the Bard, to Klingon masters, to other important literary works. Her closet door was slightly open ; and if you were to peek inside, all you would see were gray dresses, very similar to the one she was in now. She pulled off her current gray dress and fell to the floor, reaching underneath her bed, and pulling out four items from beneath it. There were two gray boxes, and two black boxes, all only about one foot by one foot long; maybe six inches high. The black boxes contained her glass jar collection; she opened one of the gray boxes, and produced a blue dress, in the style of late 18th century earth. She pulled it over her head and smoothed out the wrinkles. She grabbed the second gray box and went to her window. With a few taps on the control panel next to it, the window opened; and Ophelia Lynne Loveless retreated to her favorite place... 

...the small tomb in the valley near her house. 

XIII. 

"What's clean is pure, but hey-  
I'm white on the outside..." 

Wash - Pearl Jam 

Roland Loveless send his resignation to Starfleet Headquarters, as well as a copy of his last will and testament. When the transmissions blanked off of the screen, he found the phaser he had been toting, and left his home, not even glancing in the direction of his daughter's room. 

Once outside, he went to the Enterprise shuttle that was still dutifully parked in front of the two small houses. Inside the shuttle, he programmed it to take off in several minutes to a hanging orbit around Akathisia's moon 44. Once he set the controls in motion, he knew at that moment that he had to kill Picard, for Jenna's sake, and to terminate the threat of the Borg in Federation space once and for all. Jean-Luc Picard was to blame for every single death at Wolf 359 and he was going to pay for it, with his life and the life of Doctor Beverly Crusher. 

* 

Picard finally began to make progress. He was moments away from opening the door. The sweat lined his forehead, because he knew that he had a limited amount of time before Loveless was due back; and he had to find Beverly and get her, and himself as far as he could from that madman's grasp. 

His fingers worked franticly and when he had managed to compromise the lock a few moments, the door clicked open. He dropped the tricorder and bolted for the door. 

When he swung it open; Roland Loveless stood in front of it, pointing the phaser at Picard's chest. 

* 

Deanna Troi appeared on the bridge in uniform. Ensign Danae Sanchez rose to her feet from the command chair. "Counc-" she began. Her dark skin and dark eyes almost flashed white for an instant; her long raven hair if given the opportunity would have turned white. 

"It's alright Ensign. At ease. I couldn't sleep, so I thought that I would spend some time up here for a while." 

"Trust me; it should have you nodding off in a matter of minutes." Ensign Sanchez replied. "Would you like to take command?" 

"Oh, no, just resume normally as if I wasn't here." Deanna smiled and took her customary seat on the bridge, glancing out on the stars. 

* 

Oh my god, it's going to attack me, Beverly thought. All she could tell was that something was coming into the tomb with her. 

"Wait," she called. "It's me, it's me!"

"Ophelia?" She asked. 

"It's me! What are you doing in here?" Ophelia wiggled her way into the tomb. 

"I -" she wasn't sure what to say. Your father is a mad man and threw me in here and is quite possibly going to kill the man that I love, that loves me. 

She came into the tomb and eased herself onto the cobble ground. "Not my father." She said at once. "Not my father." She was scared. She felt so much from Beverly all at once. Pain, love, hate, confusion, fear.

"I don't know what to tell you. He's…. he's sick and we have to help him. He doesn't know what he's doing anymore." Beverly said.

"Mommy." She said at once. "He wants Mommy." 

"You mother is dead, and there's nothing that we can do to change that."

"We can! We can!" Ophelia cried, jumping up and down. "Help me, help me! We have to get up there!" She pointed to where the canister that fell on Beverly earlier fell from.

*

"Bless those handy Starfleet resources. They could almost always get some one out of a jam, now couldn't they?" Roland said to Picard.

Picard slowly raised his hands up. "Usually."

"I think that you should know that your precious Doctor Crusher is going to have a rather miserable death. She's in an rather obscure location, rather cold there too. She'll either freeze or starve to death. Considering it's not too cold this time of year, she'll suffer for a while, while she becomes dehydrated, hungry, and possibly stark raving mad. They'll never find you, either one of you. That shuttle will disappear into the sun, and you'll be nothing but ashes. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, dear Captain."

"I beg you to reconsider this, Loveless. What is this going to do for you?"

"BRING ME PEACE!" He bellowed. "Bring my wife peace! She was going to be home, with me, with her daughter, and that never happened because of YOU! All I wanted was to have a family, to spend the rest of my life with the woman I loved."

Picard took this all in. "That's all I want as well."

Loveless glared at him. "You can't love, Locutis, you are Borg. The don't have the skills to feel compassion."

"I AM NOT Locutis of Borg!" He screamed. "I am Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Enterprise, and I am not the same man I once was! I can love, and I do love someone, with all my heart and soul! With every fiber of my being! If you kill me, you become no better than Locutis!"

"HOW DARE YOU!" Loveless swung at Picard.

It was the reaction he was looking for. Picard tried to move in time, but took a hit to his shoulder. Loveless kept coming at him.

"I want to kill you with my bare hands, Locutis. You will die, for my Jenna, for all of them!" Loveless swung again at Picard. Picard blocked him, and tried to remove the phaser from his grasp. The men rolled on the floor, Picard trying to save himself from blows with the phaser, Loveless trying to give as many as he could. Picard was giving Roland a run for his money, but Loveless was still furiously pounding away at him. Shoulders, stomach, chest. One after another with an almost super human strength that Picard could not match. Loveless managed to hit Picard square in the face, blood coming from his lip and nose. Picard was dazed. "You weak bastard." Loveless spat.

"Roland." She called from the doorway. "Stop."

XIV.

"Ah, not crazy, a per se..."

- Dirty Frank, Pearl Jam

He did. He thought he knew that deep seductive voice. He rolled off of Picard and looked to the doorway. Picard was dazed.

She stood in the doorway. Her dark hair, and her crystal blue eyes. She was naked except for a chiffon gray cloth that hung around her neck and danced in front of her figure. Her skin wasn't real, almost white, almost gray, almost translucent. 

"You must stop." She said. "I'm in danger." She whispered.

"N-n-n-no." Loveless stammered. He was on the floor next to Picard, and was acting scared like a child. "J-J-J-J-Jenna. How?"

"There has always been a greater force at work above us." She whispered. "Around us. You've taken it upon yourself to alter it, and it can't be allowed. If you continue on this path, we will never be together again. It was all meant to be." She began to step back.

"NO! Please stay Jenna, I love you!" Loveless got to his feet and rushed to the door. 

She kept moving back from the door and seemly disappeared.

"JENNA!" He screamed as he came out of the room.

Then he slumped forward as a phaser as he was struck by a phaser, falling into a pile on the ground. 

"I like him not, nor stands it safe with us to let his madness range." Ophelia dropped the phaser and ran to her father's side. "Is he going to be okay?" She asked.

"I hope so Ophelia." Beverly came back in to the bedroom and found her medkit. She riffled through the contents and came to him with a hypo-spray. She wasted no time in administrating the dosage. "This is going to keep him asleep for a while until we can get him taken care of, okay?"

"Yes, we have to help him. Can I get help now?" She asked. She was scared, but she could feel that it could only get better because she could feel that the pain was being eased and Beverly was feeling relief.

"Yes, go."

Ophelia ran from the house and Beverly ran to Picard's side.

"That was quite a show, dear Doctor." He managed to say. She got to her tricorder which she had spotted on the ground. 

"Don't talk." She said. She ran it over him, checking his wounds and administrating care. She couldn't help but smile. "You'll be alright," she said, her voice returning to normal. 

After a few minutes, she left his side and found her belongings. She found a white dress and pulled it over her gray colored body. 

"Your hair." Picard said.

"An accident."

"I don't like it."

"I think for this particular situation that you better enjoy it." She came to his side. She bent over him and kissed him, a kiss that eased her fears, erased her doubts and sealed her fate.

*

All at once, Deanna Troi felt her eyelids get heavy and as if the weight of the world was lifted from her shoulders. With that, she left the bridge, returning to her quarters. 

*

"I'm sorry about what my Father did." Ophelia said to them. The sky was clear and the events of the night were recorded with the local magistrate, Loveless was in the local hospital. The Enterprise was called and was back in route to retrieve her Captain and Chief Medical Officer. She was wearing a white dress, and her hair was pulled back, making the young child look very serious. They stood in front of their shuttlecraft that was being furnished with a number of items, books, cloth and art.

"You didn't know." Beverly said.

"I should have, and for that I am truly sorry." She said. She was quiet a moment, almost retrospective of everything that she has witnessed and been a part of her entire life. "I have something for you, Beverly." The young child retreated into her home and returned with a blue cardboard box, almost her size. "You will know when to use this." 

As Beverly took it from her arms, Ophelia kissed her on the cheek. "Arm you, I pray you, to th', speedy voyage."

"Goodbye." The Doctor said.

She then smiled at the Captain. "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts never to heaven go. The same goes for thoughts without words, sir."

"Well said, young lady." Picard took the child into his arms and hugged her. Once he let her go, they boarded the shuttle and went into orbit.

When the shuttle was orbiting the plant waiting for the Enterprise, Beverly opened the box.

A white dress, embroidered with petite blue flowers.

The same color as her eyes.

When Picard saw this gift, he put the shuttle in auto pilot and got to his knees in front of her and he made his proper proposal. "Beverly, would you be my wife?" 

She put the gift aside and answered him with her eyes. She got onto her knees and they kissed.

Everything has changed.


End file.
